


Saudade

by AlwaysWrong



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Death, Funeral, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysWrong/pseuds/AlwaysWrong
Summary: Michael's gone and Calum doesn't know how to accept that
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood
Kudos: 4





	Saudade

Calum had been in a daze since he heard the news. It couldn’t be real. Luke had to be talking about somebody else. Anybody else. Not Michael. Not his Michael. When he tried calling the older and only got voice mail, the reality of the news started to set in. He couldn’t tell you what happened the week leading up to the funeral. He knew that he called into work a couple days. There was no way he would have been able to walk around that building where they met and be okay. Did their boss know? Did their coworkers? Who had Luke called? Was he supposed to be calling people too? He was Michael’s boyfriend, he should be doing something. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Michael’s family was taking care of everything.

Every few hours his phone would ring. Calls from friends making sure he was okay. Calls from his family asking what they could do for him or to let him know they were coming over to bring him food. Calls from Michael’s family to share updates on the details they uncovered and the plans they were making. They asked if he wanted to come to the funeral home to help make the arrangements, pick out the flowers and the coffin. He had thought about it. He really had. But that would make it real. That would mean that Michael was really gone. It was all he could do to argue with Michael’s grandfather about what he should be laid to rest in. The old man wanted his grandson to be buried in a suit. Calum knew that Michael would hate that. The man hated dressing up. Even when they had gone to Louis’s funeral the year before he had worn skinny jeans and his combat boots.

No, Michael had to be comfortable and himself when everybody saw him for the final time. He took it upon himself to go over to Michael’s apartment to pick out the clothes. The minute he unlocked the door, it was clear what had happened. The entire apartment lacked the energy that Michael possessed. The air was cold and still, making Calum feel as if he were trespassing, despite the fact that he had spent more time there then he did at his own place. Or he had before they started fighting. In the bedroom, the bed had been stripped of the sheets but a stain still remained on the mattress. While he did his best to ignore it and the rest of the room as he rifled through Michael’s clothes, it was all he could think about. Michael’s final moments in this room. What had been going through his head? What was it that Luke had said?

_Michael had been drinking. That was clear when Luke called him. Not that that was anything out of the ordinary. Michael liked to drink. Michael loved to party. Although this wasn’t happy drinking. It was obvious from the way his voice sounded as he told Luke he was cooking steak that he was sad. A blind man could have seen that he was sad. Deeply so but it was never in a worrisome way if you were to ask any of his friends. Not until it was too late for any of them to realize it. While they talked, Michael cried about how he didn’t want to be alone on valentine’s day. That was_ his and Calum’s day _. They were supposed to be together, celebrating their love. Instead they were in the middle of a fight that really seemed as if they were going to break up. For over an hour Luke had talked with Michael until he calmed down and things seemed fine. The call ended like it always did when the older had been drinking. With Luke telling him not to do anything stupid. If he knew those would be his last words to his best friend, he never would have hung up the phone._

Calum didn’t remember leaving Michael’s apartment. He doesn’t remember sitting on the floor until the world outside had grown dark. The clothes he picked were something he knew Michael’s grandfather wouldn’t approve of, not that he cared in the slightest. Michael only ever dressed for himself. The Queen shirt was old and faded from years of wear, the black jeans were tight and ripped at the knee from a drunken night down by the river. Everything Calum picked had meaning. Down to the mismatched socks and the Dragon Ball Z boxer briefs. He debated grabbing the worn denim jacket his boyfriend was so fond of, but couldn’t part with it. Instead he added to the pile of clothes a red plaid shirt that matched the earrings he was so fond of.

After the time he spent in Michael’s apartment, Calum couldn’t be alone. He stayed at Ashton’s until the day of the funeral. If anybody understood what he was going through it was Ashton. The older held him while they both waited for him to cry. Yet not tears came. There was no way that it could be real. This was some sick prank. It had to be. Any minute now somebody would shove a camera in his face and Michael would walk out from some closet laughing and apologizing. Payback for all the fighting they had been doing lately. Calum would swear at him, maybe throw something for the sake of whoever was holding the camera, but they would be kissing and pushing each other to the nearest private room before anybody could say anything else.

Then it was Friday and Ashton was gently shaking Calum awake so they could get ready for Michael’s funeral. He had gone to get them breakfast from a cafe and had it sitting on the table. The bagel sandwich he always got and coffee just the way he liked it, not that he could bring himself to take more than a few sips of his coffee. It was almost as if somebody else was possessing his body. Ashton had to help him out of the chair and towards the bathroom so he could dress. The Rolling Stones shirt was one he had stolen from Michael years ago, before they had even started dating. The jeans were ones he always wore because his boyfriend said they made his ass look good. Did it matter that he wasn’t dressed for a funeral? No. He was dressed for his boyfriend he told himself as he pulled on the black and white plaid shirt before dangling Michael's pendant around his neck.

Driving to the funeral home was surreal. Luke had come over and was doing the driving. Some of their friends were already there when they stepped out of the car. Everyone hugged each other and made small talk. Liam and Harry were both dressed nicely in black suits. Zayn and Niall were dressed for Michael for the most part, in bands they probably never listened to but Michael always played around them. It was clear they were all trying to avoid talking about the elephant in the room. Or the lack of people from their groups. It was still unreal that Louis was gone. Now Michael.

Calum excused himself back to the car, complaining that he was cold when he recognized Michael’s parents' car pulling into the lot. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see them. In fact, he did want to see them. More than he wanted to see his own parents right now. He wanted to hold on to them and sob with them. But that would make it real. So he slid into the car, thankful to be out of the cold. He hadn’t even realized how cold it was until he was out of the wind. All too soon Ashton was opening his car door, saying that everyone else had already gone in. He wasn’t in control of his own body as he slowly made his way across the parking lot. Somebody took his coat, although he couldn’t say who.

He saw the chairs set up first. There were so many of them and at the present moment only a few of them were occupied. It was just close family and friends right now. An hour alone to say goodbye before the casket was closed and the visitation officially began. In the back were photo collages that his friends mulled about but he paid no attention to. The second he stepped through the threshold, his eyes fell upon the casket in the front of the room, surrounded by a few beautiful flower arrangements. Ashton stayed by his side, a hand on his back as he made his way forward. Until he pushed his friend away, slowly a stop beside the man he loved.

Lying in the casket, Michael didn’t even look like himself. His hair was combed, eyes shut, skin pasty. While he was dressed in his own clothes, he looked like a complete stranger. Slowly, Calum reached a hand out, gently stroking his boyfriend’s cheek. Before he knew it, he was bent over sobbing against the side of the coffin, barely able to hold steady as the weight of the world crashed on his shoulders. He could hear his own cries echoing throughout the empty room, but he couldn’t stop himself. Michael was really gone.

He wasn’t sure how long he cried or who even helped him away to a private room to recompose himself. But for them he was thankful. A box of tissues had been set in front of him at the table and his mother sat beside him, holding him tight while he attempted to calm down. He was half an hour late to the visitation and had to skirt around people to stand in the receiving line beside Michael’s parents. All too quickly he lost count of all of the people that came to pay their respects to those closest to Michael. It was almost embarrassing that Calum couldn’t name all of the people who came through. It was clear that Michael had meant a lot to a lot of people.

Calum sat on a couch between Michael’s parents while his grandfather gave the opening eulogy. More people came up to talk, telling stories of years gone by, how they knew Michael, what he meant to them. The entire time Calum cried, not even bothering to dry his tears. Eventually, it was his turn to speak. Drying his face with the damp tissues, he walked to the podium. For a moment, all he could do was stand there. Words had been written in his phone of what he wanted to say but those didn’t seem right at the moment.

“I don’t want to do this.” He said with a choked sob. “I’m horrible at talking to people. This was Michael’s job...I guess it’s my job now. I wish it didn’t have to be...I wish I was talking to him right now. I don’t even know what I should say...Michael was...everything to me. My Jedi, my viking, my warrior, my rockstar...any he always will be. I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. All I know is that he is drinking with Odin at the great hall in Valhalla...he was my viking after all. Died in battle like all great warriors. But not all battles are fought on the warfront. Mikey was fighting a battle and we couldn’t see it...I’m gonna miss his hugs. He gave the best hugs...the kind that let you know you were loved...I’d give anything for one of his hugs again.”

He wanted to say more but the words failed him, stopped by the weight of his grief. After a few moments, he shook his head, telling everyone in the room that he couldn’t go on and sat down once again. Both of Michael’s parents’ arms encircled him, as well as a pair of hands on his shoulders. Combined, they all held him tightly. But nothing compared to the emptiness he felt inside of him knowing that he would never be able to be held so tightly by Michael again.


End file.
